Hands Down and Out of the Past
by Strummer29
Summary: I decided to play around with Grace. I gave her a bit of an odd past, or the start of one, that is a bit out of whack to what Grace is and does.


Notes: This is my first fan fiction, I'm in the process of finishing it. I look forward to comments, flames will be used to keep my furnace going.

Also I use the term Joanith, in reference to both Joan and Judith to save me typing. If you haven't seen season two this probably won't make much sense, I suggest you brush up at . Also if implied alternative lifestyles aren't your game turn back now. You have been warned.

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Hands Down and Out of the Past

There is that one moment in everyone's life where you know your life will never be the same again. Mine occurred somewhere between the last bottle my mother threw at me last night and how I came to wake up to the sight of a very sympathetic Helen Girardi in a bathrobe. At least I know where Joan gets her excellent looks from.

As I figured out quite immediately I was in a bed in the Girardi household, which room I was in I was still a bit fuzzy on. Last night I walked through a penetrating downpour of rain and knocked on a window in the early morning hours and that's where it gets vague.

I survey my surroundings; something warm and soft is curled around me. The bed I'm in is covered with a blue bedspread with a small pattern of dots on its surface and the walls are painted, so this isn't Luke's room. Wait, 'soft and warm' my mind screams. I reach back and touch a wave of silken hair close to my neck. Shit! I smell like booze and I'm in bed with my best friend. I thought I swore to myself that I wouldn't let this happen with Joan. She already went to crazy camp for the summer, and here I am trying to get her enrolment in the autumn semester of the "special" boarding school. Way to go Gracie. Well fuck!

What was it that Animal said? Oh right, "Sublimating will sink you." How can she be so right and wise in four words? I take that long to insult Mr. Price and four times that to introduce a political view. What a wonderful predicament for my unconscious to put me in. I don't care what you believe Freud is a bastard. My mind is focusing on my last good relationship while I'm lying in the wrong bed of another that can't be outlined conventionally without a big psychology text and an equally large bottle of lithium. It would be easier if Luke were a girl, hell, who am I kidding I've wanted him to be Joan all summer. I would so kick myself if not for the fact that there is a nocturnal animal hybrid of koala and leech, clinging to my back.

A quick check of my person reveals that yes I am wearing clothing although none of it my own. I believe its Joan's because the colour scheme is something I wouldn't be caught dead in and my clothes are piled on her desk chair, which I can smell from here. I must've been really out of it last night. My coping skills still need some serious work.

I sit up slowly in spite of Joan holding my waist in a deadlock and make my way into the middle of the room reaching for my clothes already knowing they aren't salvageable to wear right now. I hear a groan and a voice that is relatively new to my world that of Judith, Joan's crazy camp buddy, "Where do you think your going get back in here and keep me warm. If you're looking for Joan she went to open the store for Sammy and will be back soon," she says cracking open an eyelid to check the clock. This is seriously getting weird, but hey at least I wasn't sleeping with my unknowing boyfriend's sister and I've got something to hold over Friedman's head about what he will never have or experience and all of it unintended on my part, screw Pretty in Pink allusions, the black triangle rules. None the less I need to locate some form of clothing to cover my chest at the moment. I hear the door open and see Joan rush in.

"I don't think you'll be able to wear any of that any time soon," she says pointing to my pile of soaked clothing.

"Okay, what happened last night?"

"You don't remember?" I can't tell whether she finds this amusing or disappointing and I don't care to find out any time soon.

"I tend to block things out,"

"When it comes to your alcoholic mother," Joan says, "Just so you know nothing happened. You pounded on my window; Judith pulled you in still smelling ripe even though you were soaked right through. We asked you what happened and you spat out something in Hebrew I didn't quite catch besides the word _shikza_. We got you changed into some pyjama bottoms and let you sleep even if you weren't wearing a top and now here we are." I'm feeling a little more relieved and find myself falling in love at this moment, something I will not allow myself, at least not yet.

"Well Jo-Jo is leaving out the all out three person cry-fest, but that was pretty much the evening," says a very groggy Judith sitting up in the bed, her face obscured by a sheet of matted pillow hair.

"Why were you two crying?" they look at each other and decide to go ahead and tell me.

"Well I saw Judith macking on Adam and that he was reciprocating. I blew up and ran off. Then I spoke to Adam and we both kind of resolved that we were better as friends anyway. This was just before Judith came over to apologize in tears. While we were sorting it all you showed up smelling like a Christmas fruitcake at my grandmother's. Also Judith was locked out of the house by her parents for something stupid that Friedman apparently did. So we had an emotionally wrought sleep over."

"Oh and so you know, we both know about your mother and her habit and we fully support you," says Judith in between yawns.

"Cool," I say exasperated, where is my phone, I start feeling around the alcohol drenched mess on the chair when Judith waves my cell phone, "I need to make a call."

"Well here then," she says tossing it to me, "although you should know that we already called "Animal", his number was on your hand. And you muttered something about him needing to know."

"Thanks, what did she say?" I try to calculate the time difference in Germany, must've been somewhere in the mid-morning. Judith and Joan both look dumbstruck, and then compose themselves.

"Well we got this Wolfgang person, sounded groggy himself," Joan starts, I cut her off.

"Yep that's her, did she tell you anything?"

"That he was getting on a plane now and that he would be here in like 14 hours or something," says Judith again forgetting the correct gender of Animal, "he sounded like totally hot and he's on his way here," she says in obvious glee.

"Wolfgang is female, her nick name is Animal because she's a drummer, but she's hot none the less," I say matter-of-factly. I hear the doorbell in the distance and what sounds like the footsteps of most of the Girardi family racing for the door. The sound of the door opening and the footsteps of my ex, "But judging from the racket downstairs she's already here." I hear solid footsteps ascending the stairs. Judith ducks under the covers, only now realizing she was topless like me. I stay put even when Joan pleads at me with her eyes to at least hide behind some manner of clothing. Anyways, Animal has seen me in less plus I wouldn't be caught dead wearing any of Joan's insipid shirts. There's a knock at the door.

"Is everyone indecent in there? Because I'm coming in," says the voice of my ex-girlfriend, tinged with a slight German accent and something else, the beginnings of an English or Irish accent.

"Come in." I say and the door opens ever so slightly enough to allow her to enter. She is about five foot nine now, and dressed head to toe in perfectly pressed black shirt and pants with Gucci belt and black leather jacket. I know her boots are downstairs but they are hand made Dr. Martins with metal inserts for motorcycle racing. Her blonde hair, all of an inch and a half long and gelled, is the first thing I look at while Joan and Judith look her Tomb Raider like frame up and down. I know the entire ensemble is worth more than what Joan will make in a year at the bookstore and yet it doesn't bother me, at least when dealing with Animal. I don't think she's worn anything that wasn't woven Egyptian cotton or worth at least a car payment. Oh the benefits of being a rich kid with way too much charm and brains. She's holding a duffle bag in her right hand and at once I'm grateful.

"I thought you could use some clothes that didn't chafe your personal style sensibilities," she says tossing it towards me as she makes her way into the room noting the obvious state of dishevel, "now what is that famous Catholic quote? Help me I'm an agnostic," she says grinning, pushing my soaking pile of laundry off the chair and sitting down.

"Remember not the sins of my youth," pitches in Judith poking her head out from under the covers to survey this foreign so-called hottie. Animal tosses her a shirt, "hey how did you know I needed a shirt?"

"Experience," she says tilting her head to the side and smiling, "and actually I was thinking more along the line of 'yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,"

"Except Joan's dirty underwear," I interject after buttoning up the men's shirt I found in the bag, maroon and all too familiar in feeling. It is exactly like the one she is wearing already aside from the obvious difference in colour, it even smells like her, all English leather and Irish spring soap. Joan shoots me a dirty look while blushing.

"Well from what I already know," Animal says standing up, "I know the explanation for this latest turn of events is going to take longer than a short chat. So how about you get dressed and I'll take all of you out for brunch and you can spill the sordid details. Gaining a full stomach and my full attention for the afternoon," she is now at the door, pulling it open and finishes by saying, "I shall be downstairs having a coffee with the fine Girardi parental units, you can arrive as you please. Until then," and Animal leaves shutting the door discreetly behind her.

"Okay, that was like the most polite person I've ever met, and she didn't even comment on my rack," says Judith wrestling her way out of the bed covers.

"It's the European raising, the Brazilian nude beach etiquette, and the fact that she couldn't actually see it," I say as I make my way into the hall to have a shower. Animal remembered my favourite soap and all the essentials. Today is looking better than I could've hoped.

Over all I think it took at least an hour for Judith and Joan to get ready, at least that was how long I was waiting downstairs for them. Animal is the picture of patience and wisdom; it makes me almost want to kiss her right now, but the geek sitting beside me is a reminder of one of the details I have to work out sometime in the near future.

"I have to say Grace, the look suits you," says Joan commenting on my attire. Leave it to Animal to know what exactly will look good on me. I'm wearing an upgraded version of my usual slacker attire courtesy of her collection; cargo pants, military belt, undershirt and an Egyptian cotton shirt died the deepest shade of crimson. She even remembered my bra size, my favourite brand of boxer briefs, and to complete the ensemble socks and a pair of steel toed boots.

"I trust everything fits alright," Animal asks.

"Yes, although I'm a little uncomfortable wearing clothing that's worth my dad's car payment," I say reminding myself that she likes it when I speak my mind, no matter what, I hope.

"Well we all have to make sacrifices," replied Animal calmly. I swear she's one of the few people who can pull off irony and mockery with a facial expression, "shall we proceed to brunch now that you are sufficiently attired, and then you can explain to Helen as well as me what happened last night."

"Well, off we go then," says Judith taking the lead in the race to the door.

"Why is there a race going on between Judith and Joan to get out to the drive way?"

"Because I told them that you usually drive your Rolls Royce Phantom everywhere you go," I calmly reply on the verge of tears from holding my giggle fit in.

"Why did I ever date an anarchist with communist undertones," she says in mock exasperation eliciting a snort from Mrs. Girardi. We take our time walking out chatting genially about nothing and I'm beginning to see a whole different side of Helen Girardi. I get to see the woman, rather than the teacher, the artist, or my personal favourite, den mother. Animal always has that effect on people. We descend the stairs and come face to face with Animal's ride.

"I see you upgraded," I say in awe of the mass of steel that is Hummer's newest monstrosity, the stretch Hummer. It has a wild paint job, all blue and purple flames dotted with old school skulls and nautical stars. Animal definitely made this one hers.

"My father insisted since the threat of terrorism is coming to a head in the United States, whether from the east or more likely within the country. It's bullet proof and that's all that matters besides the awesome sound system that gives you new appreciation for the bass lines in the Ramones classic, 'I Wanna Be Sedated." She does know the way to my heart.

"Well we better get everyone loaded up before Joan and Judith try to climb in the sun roof."

"Well if they do I can use the mace jets that were built into the body," I favour her with a look which I make sure she sees, "Buzz kill," she says, opening the passenger door and giving Mrs. Girardi and hand up, then Joanith, and myself before climbing nimbly inside as well, "Where do you suggest?" Throwing the floor open to suggestions. Mrs. Girardi is the first to come up with an answer I can actually comprehend

"How about the Arcadian Hotel? Is that alright Joan?" she's more observant than I thought. There goes the image of the scatter brained art genius.

"Sounds good," was the reply around the car.

"You heard the wonderful ladies Mugabe," says Animal to the driver.

"Very well Animal, but next go around you're driving."

"You got it." She winks at me. The last time she did that in tandem with a grin we wound up stopped by the Arcadia police for indecent exposure and six tickets for speed violations.

"Can I get a five point harness before the great limo five hundred through the Town Square," she rolls her eyes slightly.

"Is there something I should know?" says Joanith as they come back to earth after playing with every button in the passenger cabin.

"It's an old joke and my driving has gotten better."

"It's more embarrassing than anything. Though why I'm still speaking to you is a wonder to me."

"Not really, you can't really say I violate your beliefs since I was the one who got you into apoliticalism and anarchy. Though I wouldn't say it was embarrassing."

"For you. For me I was brought home by the police, with a ticket for indecent exposure, and a bruise growing on my ass."

"You have to tell us that whole story right now," says Judith. I shrug and contemplate how long I'll make them beg for it. Although Animal is probably gonna tell them soon and if I'm right it will be when Joan is drinking something.


End file.
